
Class 
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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 



The Port O' Dreams 

And Other Poems 



I By 

Edith Pratt Dickins 



ti 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York and London 

Zbe Imicfterbocker press 

1909 



t 






of CONGRESS 

Two Ctoies Received 

MAR 13 1809 

Copyritfnt Entry 
CLASS tfC aXc, 



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, ■ n i i l *r» *»*-* 



Copyright 1909 

BY 

EDITH PRATT DICKINS 



Ube Knickerbocker preaa, flew l?ork 






TO MY HUSBAND 



111 



CONTENTS 



The Port O' Dreams 

The Song of the Light 

In the Rain . 

A Crucifix 

A Christmas Love Song 

The Deserted Shrine 

Mount Rainier 

The Strength of the Weak 

The Queen's Garden 

To E. M. F. S. 

Taps 

Venus de Milo 

To My Godson 

In the Desert 



PAGE 
I 

4 
6 

8 

10 

16 

*7 

19 

41 

43 
46 

48 

5i 



VI 



Contents 



PAGE 



Songs of Dreams 

Gettysburg . 

To an Old Silhouette 

An Exile 

The Tent on the Desert 

The Prodigal's Prayer 

Her Picture . 

Fata Morgana 

Morning Song 

The Redwood Tree 

California Hills 

Stranded 

Abalone Shells 

Petigo . 

January 
February 
March . 



55 

69 

71 
74 
76 

79 
81 

85 

86 
89 
92 

95 
97 

99 
100 

101 



Contents 



Vll 



April 

May 

June 

July . . 

August 

September 

October 

November 

December 

Golden Poppies 

Gypsy Song . 

The Dreamer . 

To Marguerite 

Memory 

The Rose's Song 

The Home Port 



PAGE 

02 
04 

05 
07 

08 

09 

10 

II 

12 

l 3 

14 
18 

21 

22 

26 

27 



THE PORT O' DREAMS 

IT is just beyond the sky-line, 
With its poppy fields of rest, 
Where day's storm-bewildered shallop 

Drops its anchor in the west; 
Where a silent sea of saffron 

Stretches inland toward the streams 
That go glimmering down the valleys 
Of the purple port o' dreams. 

In the far-off gloom behind it 

Earth's dusky boundary lies; 
And a step beyond its outposts, 

The hills of heaven rise; 
So near, that in the glory 

Of their mystic haze, it seems 
That the dear dead walk beside us 

In the peaceful port o' dreams. 



The Port O' Dreams 

strange and wondrous country, 

Hiding close the goals of life, 
Who wins to thee brings courage 

For the long, dull march's strife; 
And the prisoner of living 

Hope's freedom pledge redeems 
In thine endless, boundless radiance, 

O blissful port o' dreams! 

We have called thee Heart's Desire, 

Or the Islands of the Blest, 
And the land of Finished Stories, 

Thou dreamland in the west; 
Yet every heart 's the boundary 

Of thy soul-reposing beams, — 
Art thou hope, or love, or heaven, 

O happy port o' dreams? 

Sail away, O weary-hearted, 

To the bayous of release; 
Leave the drums of life behind you 

At the harbor bar of peace; 



The Port O' Dreams 

Come to anchor off the headlands 
Where the light of heaven gleams, 

In the haven where ye would be, 
Past the purple port o' dreams! 



THE SONG OF THE LIGHT 

I LI FT my head where the blind winds spread 
The flinging, stinging snow; 
My beacons rise like watchful eyes 

Where the torn white breakers flow; 
I stand apart like the mother heart 

To watch and warn my own, 
While the wild storm whips my battling ships 
Till their tortured timbers groan. 

I fling my light through the fearful night 

To bid death's darkness flee, 
And hope awake in the hearts that ache 

With the wonder of the sea. 
Oh, I light them home o'er the blinding foam 

I send them forth to the fight ; 
My far beams shine like a sleepless shrine 

At the edge of the lonely night ! 

4 



The Song of the Light 5 

And down, far down, through the seaweed brown 

On the shelving, white sea floor, 
Where the spent ships ride on an aimless tide 

As the storms above them roar, 
My quivering gleam lights up the dream 

Of the lonely sailor's sleep; 
Like a prayer it lies on his weary eyes 

In the endless dark of the deep. 

When the sky is spread with the evening's red, 

And the tattered sails are furled, 
And my ships beat in from the wrack and din 

Of the trails of all the world ; 
Oh, calm and strong as their own home song 

I scan the opaled shore, 
As looks the soul towards love's far goal, 

And frets at life no more! 



IN THE RAIN 

RAIN in the grey, dull streets, day long the 
sombre rain, 
And the fretful human kind strain at their work 

again; 
Hurry to endless cares, tasks that are never done, 
In the dark of the gloom and the wet; while the 

sullen, black streams run 
Desolate into the shades, and the countless drops 

slip in; — 
Is there indeed a land where rain hath never 

been? 

Lift, O curtain of gloom, for I feel the wind at 

my heart, 
The endless desert wind, blowing the clouds 

apart, 



In the Rain 7 

The wind that laughs and moans, and cries from 

the blue profound, 
Full of all strength of speech, full of all soul of 

sound. 
I feel the sun in my face and the sand beneath 

my feet; 
The world is a far-off dream, a mirage of the 

heat; — 
There are only the wind and the sands, the clouds 

and the endless sky, 
The great, bare rolling hills, and the old sun god 

and I ! 

Hail! strange god of the sun, of your own land 

forgot, 
The weary years are born, and die, and you heed 

them not; 
Watching the pale gold hills their shadows blue 

unroll, 
Calm as the steadfast sun, strong as a human 

soul! 



A CRUCIFIX 

A CRUCIFIX from out the market place, 
Dim with the dust, from careless fingers 
bought, 
A small, dark cross of wood with silver bound, 

And on it wrought 
A silver Christ, worn smooth with prayers of 

years, 
And countless kisses and unnumbered tears. 

O symbol of all love and majesty, 
O symbol of all loneliness of scorn ; 

Around thee clings pain's mystery unsolved, 
For thou hast borne 

The burdens of hard grief and bitter shame, 

And speechless prayers for joys that never came. 

8 



A Crucifix 9 

And ye, old spirits of the lonely road, 
Who 've crossed the dark to dreamless fields 
of sleep ; 

Whose footsteps echo like the trembling leaves 
Where spring mists weep, 

Is not the way, where on the spirit fares, 

Less lonely for the sound of your lost prayers? 



A CHRISTMAS LOVE SONG 

THE roar of the clamoring street has died,- 
The solemn midnight comes, 
And brings the farce of Christmas tide 

To us, who eat life's crumbs; 
And the alley's night is still and deep, 

The winds creep down the sky, 
In the lonely dark we wake from sleep 
My new-born son, and I ! 

O strange new life of my life a part, 

As we wait for the dawning grey; 
Press closer against my aching heart 

And tell why you came this way ! 
Why did you come to this hopeless strife, 

To breathe its bitter dust, 
To fight for the unasked weight called life, 

Men pawn for a single crust? 

10 



A Christmas Love Song n 

To a world walled close by the narrow street, 

Its shame, its dirt, its sin — 
Oh, my hot tears wet your tender feet 
For the thorns they '11 wander in ! 



Yet, helpless hands on my heart astray, 

You have brought its only dole, 
You shall walk in the shards of this weary 
way 

To lift my late found soul. 
To bid me see where the clouds are drawn 

From the gleaming sky above, 
In the holy dusk of the Christmas dawn 

A Star of the East called love ! 

Ah Love! in the midst of our sordid strife 

No earth stain clings to you, 
Draw near, more near, through this frail young 
life, 

Create my world anew ! 



12 A Christmas Love Song 

For, dark in your glory, I only dare 

To kiss these clinging hands, 
But my weak soul utters its first, faint prayer 

Where hope triumphant stands! 



THE DESERTED SHRINE 

WHENCE came its spell, so weird, so slow, 
That strange, soft wind, that whispering 
low 
My peoples' love and homage drew 
To other gods and worship new? 
I only know that curst or blest, 
Full of the human hearts' unrest, 
They went; and took the dance, the song, 
The gay procession's pageant long, 
The flowers' sweet incense and the drone 
Of long prayers' dreamful monotone ! 
They did forget the old, old years 
That gave to me their prayers and tears, 
When all their fancies dreams might draw 

They found in me, with love and awe. 

13 



14 The Deserted Shrine 

Ah me! I am no less to-day 

Yet could not speak to bid them stay ! 

And here within the shade profound 

I dream and wonder; have they found 

Some remedy for all their woes, 

Some mightier god? who knows, who knows? 

Sometimes a wild flower bends its head 
Athwart the altar; sometimes red 
As blood the sunlight leaves a stain 
Slow rippling in the pool of rain 
That in the worn stone altar lies, 
Like blood of wasted sacrifice. 
Sometimes the swift eyed lizards run 
Like jewels, molten by the sun, 
Life's only offering at my shrine 
For all the life that once was mine ! 

And here I sit and gaze, and gaze, 
Into the mountains' thin blue haze, 
Across the long road's winding track, 
As though my longing could draw back 



The Deserted Shrine 15 

Some little part of those who made 
My godhead ; but the long days fade 
In silence, and they seek me not, 
So useless is a god forgot ! 

What if some evening when the still, 

Soft night creeps up the purple hill, 

That same strange whisper I should hear 

With wakened, comprehending ear, 

And following after, far and far 

Beyond the last, red-flaming star, 

Should find the wind that blows and blows 

Through kindlier lands; who knows, who knows? 



MOUNT RAINIER 

WHEN reverent twilight round thee throws 
Her consecrating flame of rose, 
And earth and sky partake with thee 

Thy glory's sacred mystery, 
O mountain of eternal snows ! 

Dost thou, outgazing into space, 
See what this flesh screen must efface; 

O'er look that strange and mystic goal 
Whose devious road the pilgrim soul 

May in its wanderings dimly trace? 
Thou art as awesome as he grew — 

Pale Lazarus — to those who knew 
That to the land that lies so far 

Beyond the light of sun or star, 
His still soul held a clue ! 

16 



THE STRENGTH OF THE WEAK 

NOT unto us the strength; 
But ours the weary length 
Of lonely desert places filled with gloom; 
And subtle songs that lure our fainting hearts 
Towards mocking lands where hollow flowers 
bloom. 

Nathless, O long sought Spirit of all Truth, 

We fight the fight; 
Not resting, as the strong of heart may rest, 

Secure of right; 
Uncertain, aye, and weary are our feet, 

Amid the strife; 

And all the struggle that we dare not count 

Ends but with life. 
2 17 



1 8 The Strength of the Weak 

Yet still our tired hearts know 

That on and on to-morrow we shall go, 

And day on day, and fail and fight again, 
Haunted with fear lest down the dark we fall, 

And tortured that the struggle be in vain ! 



THE QUEEN'S GARDEN 

WHAT eyes have seen the glory 
Of new lands, rising white, 
O'er strange dream mountains hoary, 
And lakes of still delight? 

Those eyes o'er keen with sorrow, 
That scan the endless blue, 

For some God-given morrow 
Where life and love are true. 

Ah! land, whose pale star lonely 
Above thy far road gleams, 

Thou art the one world only, 
The one true world of dreams ! 

I 

In the garden blue of the evening sky 

The level, close-massed lilies lie, 

19 



20 The Queen's Garden 

And soft, pale primrose flowers asleep 

And burnt gold poppies, mystic, deep. 

Below, an earthly garden sweet 

Where hyacinths and heartsease meet, 

And purple evening shadows fall ; 

A dim, still, place, where wild birds call, 

And I free, free, to love it all ! 

Free to love every weed that blows, 

To learn each song the wild wind knows, 

Free to forget the bitter crown 

As sad, spent toilers may cast down 

The heavy burdens that they bore 

Within the sanctuary's door 

For just a prayer's space, and no more. 



ii 



Deep in the night, the long night heavy hearted, 

Steals in the sound my soul has longed to hear, 

Dear as the voice of some old friend, long parted, 
I know the sea is near. 



The Queen's Garden 21 

Then sleep, O heart, forget the inland places, 
In that brave song of patient tide to tide 

That sings along the level, silent spaces, 
And rocky headlands wide. 



in 



The grass is all a-tremble 
With light dews on it laid, 

The slim white birches shiver 
Within the umber shade. 

Shone ever garden sweeter 
To world- vexed, weary eyes, 

Since faded down the flaming swords 
The rose of Paradise? 

Be still, O winds of glory 
Within the cloudless blue, 

That I may hear Thy voice again, 
Dear God, my lost youth knew! 



22 The Queen's Garden 

IV 

The sun is warm on the lifted hill, 

The purple shadows are deep and still; 

And this is the best of life, to lie 

In the shade of the pine, while the clouds slip by, 

Hearing the fragrant wood-winds sing 

All of the hope of the heart of spring, 

Seeing the whole of truth and art 

Hid in the windflower's trembling heart! 



Such peace and stillness on the mountains' brows, 

Such shadows dim and long, 
The roses murmur softly to the west; 

I almost hear their song. 

garden of my dreams, in my own heart, 
From my world's laughter free, 

1 've kept the faith in life, and truth, and love, 

Shall they not come to me? 



The Queen's Garden 23 

Shall not my soul, in this pervading peace, 

Be strong enough to draw 
Unto herself those souls withheld yet hers, 

By life's most perfect law? 

Shall I not bring them to me, face to face, 

From out the shadows deep? 
Not as they walked anear me yet afar, 

Across the hills of sleep? 

VI 

From the outermost dark, from the farthest 

goal, 
On the hills where the mists of the night 

unroll, 
In the hush of the dawning I call your soul. 

By the wakening east, where the day stars 

swing, 
By the breath of the woods, where the red buds 

cling, 
By the seething gold of the flames of spring; 



24 The Queen's Garden 

By the flush of the new life's pulsing stain, 
By the yearning strength of my sad heart's pain 
I call your soul to my soul again. 

The earth shall fade and the sky and the sea, 
We shall know nor life nor the dream to be 
But only our two souls, standing free. 

Come, for the far sky 's burning blue, 
The wide earth reels with her fire and dew, 
And all that is I cries out to you! 



VII 



It is so still; the uplands lie 

So clear against the far-off sky, 

No soft winds through the beeches sing; 

No leaf to leaf goes whispering. 

O great world soul, dost thou to-day 

Some small, new soul start on the way 

In this hushed hour of mystery? 

Or steals there softly back to thee 



The Queen's Garden 25 

O'er wearied with the sob and song 

And laughter, that earth's roadways throng, 

A soul that slips without a sound 

Into the silence, vast, profound? 

Strange breathless pause, as wide, and still, 
As those deep silences that fill 
With solitude the alien heart 
That in its own world walks apart ! 

VIII 

The world spread all its sweetness for my eyes; 

Its beauty fell like death upon my heart; 
For in its depths lay hid your shadowed soul 

From my love set apart. 
But now, O most dear heart, your hand in 
mine, 

My soul can bear to see the red west fold 
Its glory round the glad, transfigured earth, 

And hear the night wind sing across the 
wold. 



26 The Queen's Garden 

IX 

Last night we saw the moon's flood tide 

The hollow hillsides fill ; 
And fret with white the black woodside 
And flush with light the meadows wide, 
And the great sea, calm and still. 
Then fine and white 
As sifted light, 
We saw the fairies pass; 
Yet pause to swing 
In mystic ring 
Above the bending grass. 

Then faster, faster, all too soon, 
Their light wings lifted high, 
They rose within the still night's noon 
Like some wan rainbow of the moon 
And faded down the sky. 
To fairy lands 
Of singing sands, 



The Queen's Garden 27 

Beyond the moonlit sea, 

We saw their trail, 

So far, so frail, 
And wished our souls were free ! 



In and out of my rose trees red, 
Than the smallest scarcely higher, 

Glimmers the gold of your shining head, 
Child of my heart's desire. 

Fashioning pageants of gleaming sand, 

Crooning a faerie tune; 
Whispering me tales of your wonderland 

Through the long, still afternoon. 

Only my innermost heart can hear 

All of your accents sweet; 
Ah, never life's road so glad, so drear, 

Shall weary your little feet. 



28 The Queen's Garden 

Never your gentle hands shall ache, 

Toiling alone, apart, 
Never your soul shall passion shake 

Or the earth woe tear your heart. 

Lift up your head to the roses high, 
Dance through the sunny glade, 

Laugh at me, eyes like the morning sky, 
From the lilies' glimmering shade. 

Yet when the first large star burns clear, 

White in the twilight long, 
Come to my heart, my king, and hear 

Words of an old earth song ! 



XI 



White within the shadows, 

Scarlet in the sun, 
Laugh, O happy roses, 

Love and life are one ! 



The Queen's Garden 29 

Over all the garden 

Sweeps your scented fire, 
Sing, my heart shall answer 

Rose of heart's desire! 



All forgotten sweetness, 
All the long dead pain, 

Every lover's dreamland 
Lives in you again. 

Higher yet and higher 
Lift your music true, 

Fling its ruthless splendor 
O'er the earth anew. 



Laugh till all the loving 
Of the world is done, 

White within the shadows, 
Scarlet in the sun ! 



30 The Queen's Garden 

XII 

Beside the mere I watched the golden day 
Creep slow into the pine trees' purple rim ; 

And all the strange, sweet scents of evening rose 
Within the woodlands dim. 

The tall reeds quivered like a trembling heart; 

Pale lines of foam in silver silence curled; 
A lonely heron sailed with wide, still wings 

Across the blessed world. 

XIII 

Moon flowers in the shadows 
Of your dark leaves' gloom, 

All the garden 's holy 
With your strange perfume. 

Only night's deep silence 

Sees your cups unclose ; 
Whiter than the lily 

Sweeter than the rose. 



The Queen's Garden 31 

So my gift of love shines 

O'er the shadowed way, 
Hidden from the sunshine 

Of life's golden day. 

Through dark pain and sorrow, 

Blooms unearthly sweet 
In this mystic garden 

Where the shadows meet. 

O my flowers of silence, 
Sweet with dreams divine, 

What hath earth to give me 
When all heaven is mine? 

XIV 

I wandered in the forest, deep, so deep 
The bright blue day all blinking emerald 
seemed, 

The brakes and birches were asleep. 
The very silence dreamed. 



32 The Queen's Garden 

But high and far in the pointed pine, 

The north wind paused to sing 
An alien chant at the summer's shrine 

Of the pagan autumn's purple wine, 
And wild day's revelling. 

Then, like spent music, skyward whirled 

In a home song; tender, sweet, 
And the wood was still. 

One gold leaf swirled 
In silence, to my feet. 

xv 

I watched a stream upon the mountains high, 

From out the bare, bleak hills I saw it slip, 
Two handfuls of clear water, with the sky 

Blue white upon its lip. 
I heard it laugh adown its granite wall, 

I saw 'neath clasping boughs, all still and cool 
The bright leaves in the windless silence fall 

To many a dusky pool. 



/ 



The Queen's Garden 33 

I saw its shining trout, dark topaz clear 
Dimmed with deep emerald shades, yet gleam- 
ing bright 
With drops of living ruby, flash anear 
The rifts of dusky light. 

A blessing on you, innocent small stream! 

Go down with laughing heart and flashing 
hands, 
Into the world that calls you from your dream 

Unto its busy lands. 
Renounce the fragrance of the rowan tree, 

The small, sweet flower, with petals brave and 
blue, 
The granite walls you laughed at, wild and free, 

The world hath need of you. 
Renounce the breast of solemn majesty, 

The silent hilltops of the angels trod, 
Till out upon the bosom of the sea 

You speak once more with God ! 



34 The Queen's Garden 

XVI 

So pure, so clear burns round the steadfast light, 
O'er all the hills it spreads its quickening sheen 

As though the glory loved each far-off tree, 
Each tiny, slender cedar's dusky green. 

Ah, blessed light, shine too upon my life, 
That I may see with eyes made free of tears, 

True measures of each heartache and each joy 
That cross the silent years. 

XVII 

Over the sober hills 

The scarlet creepers run ; 
The golden birches shake their leaves 

Like wood-nymphs in the sun. 

I hear the voice of the tide, 
The earth tide, at its flood — 

I hear the cry of the winds 
Calling my alien blood. 



The Queen's Garden 35 

I see a living flame, 

Where the cardinal flowers sway, 
I feel the rapture of earth and sky 

And the blue and golden day! 

Oh to be one with life 

Where the burning colors spread ! 
To be only a voice in the shining air, 

Or a glad, wild leaf of red ! 

XVIII 

All in the amber, smoky afternoons 
The yellow flowers are flaming on the hill, 

The saffron grasses move not, on the dunes, 
The world is dim and still. 

Through golden woods the shafts of sunlight 
break, 

Slow, molten topaz flows the silent stream; 
Beat softly O my heart, lest we should wake 

The wonder of their dream! 



36 The Queen's Garden 

XIX 

The sky is dull with a faded red, 

The sea is white with foam ; 
The wild birds cry o'er the mottled moor 

And the wanderer's heart goes home. 

A chill creeps over the endless trail 

From the lone blue hills above, 
The garden sighs in the windy dusk, 

And the heart cries out for love. 

For a dim old room with its tender light 
Where the nodding shadows dream ; 

For the old books waiting the loving hand 
In the warm, red firelight's gleam. 

For you, for you and the dream of dreams, 

The perfect love made true; 
For the journey's end and the soundless dusk; 

Home, and the heart of you! 



The Queen's Garden 37 

XX 

The day's adventures all are done, — 

Come home — 
The giants vanquished one by one, 
And now the long black shadows run 
Across the dim road, little son, 

Come home, come home. 

Your tired feet falter in their quest, — 

Come home, — 
O sleepy eyes with dreams oppressed 
Sleep to the songs you love the best; 
My tired soul in you shall rest, 

Come home, come home. 

XXI 

Amid the fall of russet leaves 

I found it blossoming, 
One tiny, purple violet, 



38 The Queen's Garden 

No harbinger of spring; 
But a steadfast, evening star of peace 
The summer could not bring. 

XXII 

All of life's sweets and all the hopes she weaves, 

All of pressed lips and love's joys deified, 
Cling to the heart; yet still their sweetness leaves 

The soul unsatisfied. 
O vast still night, O lonely, sweeping stars, 

Fold, fold me round with your great quietude, 
Until my heart forgets its little scars, 

And feels within your mighty solitude, 
Your silent, wondrous ages round me roll 

Unto the bourne where fretted thought shall 
cease, 
And I am one with your transcendent soul, 

One with your endless peace. 

XXIII 

The western sky is aflame to-night, 
The hills grow dim and drear 



The Queen's Garden 39 

'Gainst the far, pale north, and the shadows fall 
Round the evening of the year. 

As cold as an unrequiting kiss 

The wind blows o'er the sea; 
And my road lies clear through the garden gate 

To the dark of the days to be. 

O come to me, Heart of my Dearest Dreams, 

For the farewell we must speak; 
My will is strong and my goal is high 

But my woman's heart is weak! 

Come stretch out your hand in the shadows dim, 

Where the last red blossoms lie, 
While the pitiful winds of the changing year 

Through the desolate rose trees cry ! 

XXIV 

Burn red, O dawn, o'er the dreaming hills, 

The world draws near again, 
I see the long road teem with life, 



40 The Queen's Garden 

And laughter, love, and pain ; 
My own heart knows its unwept tears 

Drift by like ghostly rain. 
My own heart knows its hushed, brave songs 

Sing on, and never cease 

As through its dust I walk again 
Nor clamor for release; 

For i am part of it, and strong 

To bear my part, at peace. 



Blow out, west winds, from lands of rain, 
Blow, south wind, from the sun; 

The wild, wet road is sharp with pain 
Yet so our rest is won. 

Blow, winds of life, the spirit fares 
On paths where no stars gleam, 

But cold and storm and wrack it dares 
While holds the heart its dream ! 



TO E. M. F. S. 

1 SHALL come dreaming, as day follows day, 
From the crowded streets of the world's 
highway 
Back to the books and you; 
To see you stand as you stood of old, 
In the shadows flecked with a faded gold 
'Mongst the master spirits true. 

I shall come seeking you, long and late, 

Where the garden gleams through its rose green 

gate 

And over its hedges high, 

The wise old city, midst sea winds chill 

Guarding her graves and her glory still, 

And the river slipping by. 

41 



42 To K M. R S. 

There you will come, by the climbing rose 
Where the purple depths of the shadows close 

Round the fading, saffron skies; 
The golden glory around you curled 
'Twixt the heaven of dreamland and all the world, 

And its mystery in your eyes. 

Ah, then, because you are dearer far 

Than the rose or the books or the tranquil star 

Or the old lost song of spring; 
The world shall be sweet with the soul of you, 
The fine old dreams shall again be true 

And the spheres of God shall sing! 



TAPS 

TAPS — taps — taps, the firelight dies on the 
hearth, 
The wind whistles sharp and chill, and the summer 
has left the earth. 
The gray mists spread, 
The stars have fled, 
And the light of a young life 's dead, in the land 
that gave it birth. 

There comes an echo through the haze 

That rims the purple hills ; 
A murmur through the sere wood's ways 

Where crimson sunlight thrills; 
And the whimpering winds are crying 

The passing of the year, 
While the dead dull leaves are sighing 

The taps above his bier. 

43 



44 Taps 

From hushed fields red with battle 

The plaintive sobbing comes; 
Where the dirge begins its rattle 

On draped and muffled drums; 
With the blatant bugles playing, 

And salt spray flinging free, 
Where men's lips are white with praying 

For our dead beside the sea. 

Through each anguished heart throb creeping 

Its echo steals along, 
And in women's silent weeping 

It sounds an even song; 
Where it sings no sunny morrow, 

But freights the night-wind's breath 
With its bitter, threefold sorrow, 

Of life and love and death. 

Where sleep our soldiers all alone 

Beside the sleepless tide, 
It brings again its monotone — 

"The brave, the brave, who died!" 



Taps 45 

Where the moaning rollers throb it 

Above a distant strand, 
And the evening rain-drops sob it 

O'er mounds of dreary sand. 

Yet earth's mourning taps they heed not, 

Asleep upon her breast, 
And love's holy tears they need not, 

Love's work had claimed their best; 
They sleep; their dreams are calm and sweet, 

Their hearts are free of fear, 
For God's pitying fingers beat 

The only taps they hear! 
• •••••• • 

Taps — taps — taps, and the heart has no release, 
For the echo of the sobbing of its sorrow will not 
cease; 
Yet the nation's love lies round them, 
Where'er its sorrow found them, 
And heaven's hope had wound them with God's 
eternal peace. 



VENUS DE MILO 

LET me go hence; 
The sun in fear 
From these grey walls has fled ; 
I only see the unchanging shades 

Forever round me spread, 
Why must I dwell in the darkness here 
Among the pallid dead? 

Let me go hence; 
The Mother I, 

Of life, here in my breast 
The strength of spirit and of sense, 

Of earth and heaven's best; 
Red pulsing life and its pain-born soul 

With dreams immortal blest. 

46 



Venus de Milo 47 

Let me go hence; 
To mine own land 

Whose great heart calls to me, 
Calls me away from the shrouding gloom 

To the sunlight faring free, 
Where the violet hills and the olives gray 

Look on the turquoise sea. 

Let me go hence; 
Too well I know 

These small world joys and woes, 
Let me but hear the solemn wind 

That through my temple blows 
The great life-speech of Death and Love 

Such as a goddess knows ! 



TO MY GODSON 

J. H. VAN S. B. 

SHADES of the spring on the Tuscan Hills 
Where the shimmering olives sigh, 
But little sweet lad, my heart 's with you, 
Past grey seas running high. 

Fain would I come to you, far away, 

Under a sky more blue, 
Yet must I pray this Spring to stand, 

Dear, in my stead to you. 

Look, she shall bring all her hidden worlds 

Into your true heart's ken; 
Hark, you shall hear her secret songs 

Hid from the ears of men. 

48 



To My Godson 49 

See how she brings you her unbought gifts 

Out of the red dawn's fold, 
Spice and scent of the woodlands wet, 

Jasmines, drenched with gold; 

Deep, dream-sweet wistaria blooms, 

Roses of Love's delight, 
Lilies pale of unearthly morns 

Guarding your spirit white. 

Poesy true of the hills unknown, 

Far in the faded blue, 
Wild, low songs of the dim lit pines, 

The soul of the wind sighs through. 

Smile till the sweet world sweeter be, 

Take what she joys to bring, 
Godchild blest of the sunlit days 

Sealed with the kiss of Spring ! 



I hear the Vesper bells across the hills, — 
Ah, would to-night that I with you might hear 



5° To My Godson 

The old bell's voice across the quiet sea 

Bidding each hour draw near; 
And see the broad, low lying river shores 

Dim in the mist-pale moon's mysterious beams, 
Full of strange sound, and holding evermore 

Strange shapes of unsolved dreams. 



IN THE DESE T 

"Cast out the bondwoman and her son." 

THE moon sends shadows from behind the 
hills, 
Like stealthy lions coming forth to drink; 
Where I, who turning faint when they did hold 
Unto my lips the cup of trembling, creep 
Here to these lifeless, rolling sands to drain 
Its bitter dregs, O silent sweeping stars, 
Binding the desert in your zone of light, 
Look, where beneath your soundless march I seek 
My mother land, to lay my one child here 
Within her clinging, gleaming arms and watch 
His dreamless sleep! The blind have sung of 
fields 

Rich with spring's emerald, of deep blue skies 

51 



52 In the Desert 

White flecked with doves, and those whose ears 

are hushed 
Prate yet of song, silent forevermore! 
And I, O eyeless gods of Egypt hear! 
I sing in bondage of the honeyed sweets 
Of freedom's bliss, set high beyond my reach! 

Yea, cast them forth where only winds may 

tread, 
The child and mother both of bondage born, 
That the free child alone may hold the bliss 
Of all its father's love looks. O my child 
Look how the desert, like hate's soundless night, 
Lies spread before us, see the great calm stars 
Like to the sleepless eyes of thy dear father's 

God 
Looking upon us through the cold still night! 
Far off the doves will coo their lullabies 
But not for thee; and all the far blue hills 
Will flush with life and sing aloud their joy, 
Will darken with the olive's purple hue, 



In the Desert 53 

And close beside the sunny, southern wall 
There is an empty seat, where thou and I 
Didst croon to crooning bees and watch the 

clouds 
Sail through the mighty cedar's outstretched 

arms! 
Ah, my beloved, far beyond these hills 
Of lurid sand, that shadow us within 
The desert's hopeless night, the sun and doves 
And all love's vanished joys cry ceaselessly 
Unto my heart's despair! O little one 
Were it not best that thou, thou too and I 
Shouldst cut life's slender cord, drain deep this cup 
Of trembling in the desert's shrouding dark? 
That thou shouldst never wake again to know 
The woe that cuts the soul and life apart 
Sharper than any sword? We have no home; 
Our house of joy is desolate and drear, 
And we are bound, bound slaves, and our dear 

Lord 
Hath sent us forth, sad outcasts from the love 



54 In the Desert 

That tears or smiles or prayers may win no 

more ! 
Cry out, O earth, unto the hopeless sky, 
That love is dead, and like these sterile sands 
That wind and sun, through all the length of days 
Can never flush again with earth's dear green, 
There is no power can wake its death to life! 

I am a woman ; strong alone in this 

My one long love; too sad to live and yet — 

little heart, beating so close to mine, 

1 dare not still thy throbs, nor choose for thee, 
Lest haply thou shouldst win from out the dark 
Of fate's black shadow kindlier light than mine! 
Nay, for thy sake I fling away the cup, 

The cup of trembling that would bring mine ease, 
While all its stinging strength of lifelessness 
Its wasted bitterness of death sinks down 
Into my heart, like water in the sand! 



SONGS OF DREAMS 



LIKE some short silent path black yew trees 
line — 
The path of sleep; then swift the sudden flare 
Of mystic light, with rainbow hues that shine 
Across the amber air. 

Land of all weary souls your light is vain, 
Phantom your walls of crystal, gleaming far, 

A wandering wind song is your music's strain, 
A will o' wisp your great white pilgrim star! 

Yet, charm our eyes with mocking glories bright, 
As through your fields of asphodel we stray, 

And comfort us with love's most dear delight 
The dawn shall steal away! 

55 



56 Songs of Dreams 



ii 



My Dream House walls are rose and green 
With many a soft, dull stain, 

Set round with many a cypress tall 
With many a lily lane; 

And songs, forgotten of my heart 
Go crying down the rain. 

Within, a glorious living light 
Nor night nor day dawn knows, 

Strange colors only half conceived 
Long corridors disclose, 

And vast, mysterious, shadowy rooms 
Of opal and of rose. 

O Love, my Love, through half a world 

I walk, and seek you here; 
Sometimes I see you close at hand 

Yet may not touch you, dear, 
Sometimes I seek you all the night 

Yet never find you near. 



Songs of Dreams 57 

in 

Soft shine the rosy vales and rounded hills, 
Across the fields slow, murmuring rivers creep, 

Great forests spread their emerald refuge wide, 
And beckoning shadows deep. 

Far in their twilight lies a mystic pool, 
Circled with dusk of spruce trees, silent, dim, 

Blue heaven in its heart, and flowers blue 
Thick clustered at its rim. 

I see old happy shades of days that were, 

Go glimmering through its depths of crystal 
clear, 

And ghosts, as vague as shadows in the wind, 
Whose very names were dear! 

IV 

Once in the sweet dream garden, Dear, 
You came I thought, to crave 

One fair white rose, a perfect rose, 
Of all the garden gave. 



58 Songs of Dreams 

Then long I sought, for all about 

Grew roses, flaming red, 
And buds of gold, but no white blooms 

Above the glory spread. 

At last, far down where shadows deep 
About the green ways close, 

Sheltered with thorns so cruel bright 
I found your shining rose. 

I braved the bitter, thorny hedge, 

To where it stood apart, — 
Ah, Love, you knew not, for that rose 

I gave my own glad heart ! 



You, too, into my haunted pool look down, 
Far, friendly soul, its mystic depths to see, 

Just as you watch its gold shot shadows brown, 
You watched the pool of dreams in life with me. 



Songs of Dreams 59 

You lift my thoughts the crash of life above; 

Its withered faith, its idols reft of grace, 
Its sweet, wild bitter madness we call love, 

You, who in these had never part nor place. 

I know not how with life your great heart strives, 
For out beyond our own souls' joy or pain, 

In this, just this, small respite from our lives 
We touch the poets' sunset isles again. 

Ah, friend, in sleep or life the memory stays, 
My heart is glad, when days are dull and long, 

To know you walk the world's cold, faithless ways 
Still true to that far shining land of song! 



VI 



Red against the gold red west, 
Pools so still and deep 

Lie upon the haunted hills, — 
Poppy fields asleep. 



60 Songs of Dreams 

There, O Love, you walk with me 

Far across the world, 
Round our feet in fading flames 

Poppy glories curled; 

And your eyes that smile at me 
O'er their sullen gleam, 

Compensate for all my life. 
Every broken dream. 



VII 

I am so very tired, Love, to-night, 
Spent is my soul for what shall ne'er requite; 
And to the mystic land I would go free 
To find your love, most Dear, to comfort me. 
But not with sense or soul, not e'en the dear 
Lost words my sad heart breaks to hear, 
But like a fragrance sw r eet where lilies sleep 
Beneath the large, wan moon, or some strange, 
deep, 



Songs of Dreams 61 

Full flood of melody too vast for sound 
So let your love my life and dreams surround 
Till all my days' embittered tears shall cease 
And self be lost in that unsounded peace. 



VIII 

They are so very dear, my dreams of you, 

That I would keep love always as it seems, 
A vision glorious as I make it; true 

Beyond all truth, and sweeter than all 
dreams. 
Always the perfect thing our wild hearts 
yearn, 

A mystery, amid world clamor mute; 
So life shall not betray us, never turn 

The golden apples into dead sea fruit 
Or torture us, with searing wind that grieves 

Among the sounding shards of lonely lands, 
Whereto it bore the fragile flowers' leaves 

We held too close within our grasping hands! 



62 Songs of Dreams 

Ah no, ah no, give me your earth-love blind, 
Warm, tender, in the world's cold bitter 
breath, 

My all of life I give, at last to find 
True dreams, or death! 



GETTYSBURG 

OVER the summer fields, flushed with the 
noontide's gold, 
Clear through the warm blue haze on the dis- 
tant hills unrolled, 
Came stealing a silence dread, still as a fear- 
drawn breath, 
Still as the dead dumb awe of souls who look 
their first on death. 



Slowly a rising tide was creeping up from the 
South, 

Bearing within its heart the curse of war's ter- 
rible drought, 

Up to the height of its flood, till none should stay 

or defeat it, 

63 



64 Gettysburg 

Up to the strength of the North, hurrying down 

to meet it. 
Over the silent fields, wild with the might of its 

striving 
Higher and higher it rolled, proud in the strength 

of its driving; 
Trembling on to its height in the throbs of its 

great pulse beating, 
Flinging the strength of its crest to the shock 

of that terrible meeting. 

Torn with the might of its crash, struggling still 

to its goal, 
Three long days it strove, while dim through 

the smoke-clouds' roll 
The sun looked down blood red on that swirling, 

fiery flood, 
On the striving of life with death in the battle's 

pain and blood. 

Till the sobbing, broken tides of the wave had 
ebbed away 



Gettysburg 65 

And the noise and crash of war died with the 
dying day. 

There in the twilight gray the fields lay scarred 
and black 

Seared with the rage of war, torn with its ter- 
rible rack; 

Filled with its victim's forms, who made no 

moan nor cry — 
Victor and vanquished alike, under the evening 

sky. 
Silent and cold and defeated, their hearts' blood 

spent in vain, 
Life, field, and cause all lost in the battle's bloody 

rain; 

Over their unsuccess honor alone might weep 
In the broken hearts whose tears perpetual 

requiem keep. 
Brothers whom death had joined, this in the 

pain of defeat, 



66 Gettysburg 

That in the glorious throes of victory's triumph 

sweet; 
Lads from their mother's knee, old men worn 

out with life, 
Strong hearts that were great with hope, glad 

in their triumph's strife, 
Saw in their flag their strength — "Press on my 

sons for I, 
Your mother, shall guard your dreams or ever 

you come to die." 

So in the raw red fields like grain beneath the 

flail, 
The quiet dead lay still, under the evening pale; 
Lay in the silence strange, in the wonder deep 

and dread 
Of the awesome quietude that shrouds the 

lonely dead. 

Yet not alone they lay, — up from the rank wet 
fields, 



Gettysburg 6 7 

Filled with the bitter fruit of war's red harvest 
yields, 

Union triumphant arose, Phoenix-like out of the 
flame, 

Christened with fire and blood, reincarnate, im- 
mortal she came! 



The grass is green on the hills where the flame 

of the cannon rolled, 
And the noise and din of war are only a tale 

long told; 
Yet a proud flag floats on high and a great free 

Union stands 
Strong in the blood-bought might of the breadth 

of her stainless lands. 
And ever her true heart yearns o'er the hearts 

whose only thought 
Was of her, for whose pure sake the war-racked 

fields were bought; 



68 Gettysburg 

Dear was the price they paid, well was that 

paying worth; 
Sending the light of her truth to the uttermost 

parts of the earth! 



TO AN OLD SILHOUETTE 

OH, sweet silhouette of days gone by, 
With comb and drooping curls, 
Were you in the dreamy, golden Past 
The dearest of all dear girls? 

Was your hair of gold? Did it treasure 

The wanton sunbeam's ray? 
Did your wide eyes flash, or were they calm 

As noon, on a summer's day? 

Did you smile and sigh? Did your cheeks blush 

At low-breathed words of praise? 
Were feet as light in the minuet 

As now in the waltz's maze? 

69 



70 To an Old Silhouette 

Danced you the step of the gay "beau monde," 

With glances, whispers, sighs? , 
Or were you holy and meekly fair, 

With nun-like peace in your eyes? 

Like the long dead fragrance of roses red, 

Go drifting about your past, 
Old dreams of some radiant love tale 

Too fragrantly sweet to last. 

In the firelight's glow I seem to see 

Gleams of your tresses bright, 
The chasm of years I bridge with a sigh, 

And stand by your side to-night ! 



AN EXILE 

AND they are gone, all gone; I turn the page 
Grown sere and yellow in the tropic sun, 
To scan each friendly, pictured face, and dream 
Old dreams, that fled as they did, one by one. 

The southern sky blends passionate and blue, 
With burning colors all the hilltops shine, 

They know no gentler hues, but deep, intense, 
They blaze like fires of gold, or flame-flushed 
wine. 

The heliotrope has made a purple shade, 

Below white peaks, that white cloud billows 
comb; 

Far off I hear a murmur, mournful, slow, 
The sobbing of the sea that calls me home ! 

71 



72 An Exile 

English meads, in all your pride of spring, 
Pale gold with cowslips, green with fern and 

rue, 

1 pierce the distance vague that lies beyond 
These mountain walls, for one last glimpse 

of you! 

O dear blue eyes, blue calm as English 
skies, 
O full red lips like hawthorn berries bright, 
You too, with all I loved have stepped 
beyond, 
Fond English flower withered in death's 
blight. 

And I, the last of all, heart sore for home 

Even their long, low beds may not behold, 
While these their semblanced selves to me 
become 
Still tombs, that wraiths of vanished joys 
enfold. 



An Exile 73 

My wee God's acre this, and here I leave 

Love's rue and heartsease, where my fancies 
roam 
Near to their dreaming, lonely, while low breathes 
A Heaven-born wind that sighing, calls me 
home ! 



THE TENT ON THE DESERT 

YOU and I 
In the old, black tent 
Where the waving palms are idly bent 

O'er the lost oasis that crowns the track 
Of the caravans that come not back; 
Where the light winds flutter the gaudy dress 
Of our silent, sleeping wilderness, 
Flinging the veil of her shining sand 
Up to the edge of our borderland; 
You and I 
Where the winds speed by, 
Under the radiant, cloudless sky! 

You and I 

In the tent that spreads 
Its shadowy arms above our heads, 
That folds us away in its close embrace 
A sunbeam's mote on the desert's face; 

74 



The Tent on the Desert 75 

That closes us in and forever seems 
To hide us deep in a world of dreams, 
In a world of song and a world of love, 
Deep as the dark round the stars above; 
You and I 
As the years dream by, 
Under the silent, star-lit sky! 

You and I 
Where the tumults cease 
Rest in the desert's eternal peace; 
Un vexed by the cries of a far-off day, 
Held by a dream that shall live alway, 
Tasting life's sweetness not the less 
Because we have drunk its bitterness, 
Alone at the heart o' the world, content, 
With the ruddy sands, and the old, black tent; 

You and I 
As the worlds pass by 
Under the glow of love's endless sky! 



THE PRODIGAL'S PRAYER 

HOW drearily across the barren lands 
The sun goes creeping coldly to the west, 
And mocks the bareness of my empty hands, 
My idle-weary hands, that fain would rest. 

I see the long years of my spendthrift life 
As one who sees red poppies in the sun, 

Tossed by the wind in flaunting, scarlet strife 
Like gold and blood in flaming fire threads 
spun, 

And knows not one regret for all the golden 

grain, 

The heavy blessings of his neighbor's yields, 

Until the bitter breath of wind and rain 

Threshes a harvest black, on fruitless fields. 

76 



The Prodigal's Prayer 77 

My life was all a gleaming, lambent flame, 
Through which the dross of earth seemed 
molten gold; 
A flame that tossed too swift for thought of 
shame, 
And now the fire is out, the ashes cold. 

No niggard I, I spent like wind that blows, 
And joy and youth ran after, wild and hot, s 

Yet now to these my wasted substance shows 
Like dregs in an old wine cup, long forgot. 

What would they of the old and battered cup, 
The wine is gone, and only dregs remain, 

Black, bitter dregs, that fling no sweetness up 
A prayer to folly and a pledge to pain ! 

The same red wine to-day runs clear and sweet, 
The same old love-songs thrill with tender 
grace; 

But young lips sing them down the sunny street 
And in it all I have no part nor place. 



78 The Prodigal's Prayer 

For no door opens to my pleading hand, 
Or if there were, in pity, there were none 

Who both the good and ill might understand — 
Ah, let me cry to thee, Thou Holy One! 

For not thy pity, Lord, nor leniency I crave, 
Dear was my wasted life, though all ill spent, 

I go unfalteringly to the songless grave, 
The sin was mine; I shirk no punishment. 

Yet may one gleam of Thy pure light be mine, 
Like a drowned star within a lonely stream, 

Or glint of sun through poppy leaves to shine 
And warm the darkness where I lie and dream ! 



HER PICTURE 

I SEE your happy eyes that look in mine, 
Bright as the summer that they loved 
so well; 
I see the love you gave me in them shine, 
And dream the words your still lips may not 
tell. 

voiceless thing by man's contriving made, 
O smiling, happy eyes that do not see, 

Because that once in her kind hands you stayed, 
Now dear beyond all price you are to me ! 

Sweet pictured face, like some rare faded flower 
Left from a radiant summer long since flown, 

1 see again in you love's perfect hour 

And dream of bread, then wake to find a stone. 

79 



80 Her Picture 

O listening ears so deaf, would you might hear 
The love I could so falteringly express; 

O dear, dumb lips, so far away, so near, 
Your smiling mocks my bitter loneliness. 

O tender soul, true as the polar star 

That draws the needle to its radiant breast, 
Your heart still yearns towards mine; the shad- 
ows far 

Less lonely seem since you within them rest! 



FATA MORGANA 

ALL day he wandered through a dreary waste 
Of silent, burning sand ; all day he saw 
The cloudless amber sky above him glare, 
Stifling reflection of that dread, vast sea 
Of tawny copper waves, whose hideous length 
Stretched on to meet it, level, shadowless, 
All breathless in the breathless afternoon. 
All night, all day he wandered; crying out 
To that wide sky, so silent pitiless, 
To those great stars, so far, so still, that sent 
Back, as in mockery, that wild sad cry 
Of "lost! lost! lost!" The water in the warm 
Soft flask of leather lower, lower grew, 
As the long, burning seconds lagged, and still 
His fevered eyes saw naught but burning sands. 
Then, slowly, o'er bis weary sight there came 

6 Si 



82 Fata Morgana 

Soft, beauteous, on the long horizon's edge 
A vision of green palm trees cool, that stood 
Sentinel-like, against a sunset sky 
All rosy-pink and bright with floating clouds. 
Around their feet great purple shadows clung; 
In that rose-golden mist the old black tent 
Flapped its loose corner idly in the breeze 
That stirred the emerald palm trees. His good 

steed 
With nostrils wide, and dark eyes all aflame, 
Sniffed the moist grass that grew beside the 

spring; 
It seemed, almost, his longing ears could hear 
The quick drawn breath. The woman that he 

loved, 
His last born on her breast, stood gazing far 
Across that shining stretch of pathless terror. 
Then with bowed head, all sorrowfully she 

stepped 
Back to the hazy shadows, and beyond 
The wan young moon, so tremulous, sank down 



fata Morgana 83 

Into that glowing sunset sky. 

Ah, then 

His great heart gladness cried aloud. He drank 

The few remaining drops, so tepid warm. 

He fell upon his knees in that last glow, 

And, "Allah is great," he cried, "O love, I come!" 

When swift the dread simoom's hot, parching breath 

Burned out in lurid horror, and fast spread 

Torture and death with its relentless hand 

And all was chaos. 

When the morning came 

A man lay stretched upon the soundless sands, 

An empty leathern flask beside his hand, 

As though his Desert-Mother, pitying, 

For that hard death to come, of fevered thirst, 

Had slain him, sudden, with her own wild hands. 

A smile came upon his face, as though his soul 

Had found, beyond that vale of sleep, the home 

That it so yearned to see. For all along 

The broad horizon's edge was smooth and 

straight; 



84 Fata Morgana 

No emerald palm trees reared their heads to greet 
The glittering sun, there was no tent, no spring. 
Yet far behind him o'er the sterile wastes, 
A woman wept, face down upon the earth. 
Her little babe, loud wailing, plucked her dress 
Unheeded there, forgot, while ceaselessly 
The sun blazed down upon the cheerless sands. 



MORNING SONG 

LIGHT of the morn on the shining pine, 
Gold on the shimmering sea, 
Light of my world in your tender eyes 
Come to the hills with me! 

Follow the gleam of the living light 

Free as the winds are free, 
One with the joy of the radiant earth 

Come to the hills with me! 

Over the world new born to-day 

Follow the vision fleet, 
We shall lie down in the twilight pale 

Pray that our dreams be sweet ! 

85 



THE REDWOOD TREE 

THE young trees whisper each to each 
Their branches intertwine; 
But not for me their low, light speech 
Their tender souls can never reach 
To fellowship with mine. 

Alone I speak each star that sails 

The quiet midnight blue; 
T is mine to hold the furious gales, 
To feel the rasping of their flails 

That beat my branches through. 

I thrill with triumph as they cry 

Around my mighty stem, 
I lift my scarred crown towards the sky 
I toss my gnarled old branches high, 

I fain would follow them ! 

86 



The Redwood Tree 87 

And oft I dream from them I 've won 

A boon for years to be, 
That some fair day my sap shall run 
In branches new, that hold the sun, 

My strength come back to me. 

I 've seen, O little minded men, 

Your races rise, decline, 
Lapped in their threescore years and ten, 

memories, bound by a century's ken, 
Three thousand years are mine ! 

When the first life did strive and fight 
Where stands your noisiest mart, 

The lightnings crowned me, fiery bright, 

And I am monarch still, by right 
Of my undaunted heart ! 

1 have no choice, save to maintain 

In isolation grand, 



88 The Redwood Tree 

The heights no living thing shall gain,- 
Alone I bear the joy, the pain, 
That none can understand; 

No mate have I ; the young trees sigh 
In the forest's ruddy gleam, 

But unto me they come not nigh; 

My heart from theirs is parted by 
A memory and a dream! 



CALIFORNIA HILLS 

OH ILLS of strength, rough hewn and bold, 
Sharp as a billow's flare; 
With broken slopes of tawny gold 
And bald rocks, brown and bare, 

Stand clear against the far-off sky, 

Uprear your ragged crests, 
Remembering shocks of days gone by 

That scarred your fearless breasts ! 

O hills of joy, so broad, so green, 

The light winds toss all day 
Your silken poppies' golden sheen, 

Your purple lupins gay ! 

89 



90 California Hills 

Spread out your fields of glittering grain 
Like webs from fairy looms, 

And mantle with the glowing stain 
Of royal vintage blooms ! 



O hills of peace, so soft, so fond, 
In evening's quiet change, 

What worlds of dreams lie hid beyond 
Your long blue misty range ! 

Fade, fade, into the outmost blue 
Where heaven's boundaries cease, 

And call the weary world anew 
Unto the paths of peace. 

O hills, my hills, come back to me, 
Light up the dim dream world 

Till once again my fond eyes see 
The mists above you curled ; 



California Hills 91 

Across your brows the sunset lights 

In mystic glory drawn, 
Your dew-washed summits' solemn heights 

Dark purple 'gainst the dawn; 

Your uplands that the fiery blue 

Of cloudless summer thrills, — 
The god-like grace that circles you 

O happy sun-crowned hills ! 



STRANDED 

I'M straining at my moorings in the choking, 
shifting sands, 
The sport of every roller's boisterous play, 
Where the sea weeds draw me inland with their 
brown and clinging hands, 
Toward the wet and shallow beaches, shining 
grey. 

O winds that never failed me, blow out and set 
me free; 
The creeping flats steal nearer with the tide, 
All wide and grey and desolate they stretch out 
to the sea 
And mock me with the memories of my 

pride. 

92 



Stranded 93 

The pilgrim birds fly southward in the misty 

sunset pale, 

O'er shallow pools of gold and purple hue, 

Oh, to follow, follow, follow, through the wild 

autumnal gale, 

To palm trees set against the burning blue! 

Oh, give me back the sea wastes, the lonely light- 
ning's gleam, 
The wilderness below me and above, 
The solitary visions and the battle and the 
dream, 
The endless trails and changes of my love ! 

Give back the scenes of conflict, the courage 
and the fear, 
The eagerness and weariness and ruth, 
The eyes that through the battle saw the vision 
shining clear, 
The taut and flashing canvas of my youth. 



94 Stranded 

O take me, sea, unto you, spent timbers rent 
and torn, 
And life and dreams and torment all shall 
cease; 
Come leaping in in fury from the bastions of the 
morn, 
And fling me to the gulf of my release! 



AB ALONE SHELLS 

Monterey California 

THE wild gull flung his wavering cry 
Towards the endless stretch of the sunless 
sky; 
And up the thin white strip of beach 
The sea's long arms stretched out to reach 
The cypress trees, all gnarled and grey 
With many a wind-swept yesterday. 
And phantom like, as though a part 
Of that great forest's shadowy heart, 
All bent and frail, a small, brown man 
Across the dim-lit pathway ran, 
And trembling there with age and cold 
Brought deep sea wonders manifold, 
And strangely far afield as he 
From sun-rise lands beyond the sea. 

95 



96 Abalone Shells 

Bright Abalone shells, ablaze 

With colors ; in their glowing maze 

The blue sea where the white moon sleeps, 

The thin green wave and purple deeps, 

As though their painted cups had caught 

The brightness that the sad day sought 

And held it glowing there, until 

Its light the forest seemed to fill! 

Ah, memory, when failure's bands 

Of phantoms mock our empty hands, 

Bring us old dreams of yesterday 

With youth's high visions brave and gay 

To cheer our hearts with old-time spells, 

Our grey days' Abalone shells! 



PETIGO 

To M.D. 

I SAW the brown bogs and the round, green hills, 
The blue forget-me-nots beside the streams; 
I felt the thrill of all your heart, O Land, 
Your passionate, sad dreams ! 

I saw you, little town, unchanged and still, 
Gray, quiet, peaceful, on your river's side; 

Your deep thatched roofs, the thin smoke rising 
blue, 
From hearthstones deep and wide. 

I thought of one who loved your shallow fields; 

Not in his heart the dreary seas of pain, 
Nor passionate, loud-wailing winds 

Self-driven through the rain, 

7 97 



98 Petigo 

But all the largeness of your circling hills 
Your far blue mountains lifted to the sun, 

Who left his blessing like your evening's peace 
When his long day was done. 

And all the love of unknown, elder days, 
And all their vanished dreams encompassed 
me; 

I knew your narrow stream, your silent streets, 
Your every whispering tree. 

I wished that those long dead, eyes clear of earth, 
Through my weak mortal eyes might look 
again, 

And see you with the fond old human love 
That knows both joy and pain. 

I thought of one true soul who holds you dear, 
And loved you more, to feel that you should be 

Like some old tender song in both our hearts 
To draw her close to me. 



JANUARY 

THE earth lies dumb with fear; 
I am the unconquered North; 
I laugh aloud to hear 
How my rending winds rush forth; 

what are the weakling cries 
Of life or death to me, 

I, who have seen in Silence' eyes 
Her awful mystery? 

No warmth my heart has known ; 
No leniency I hold ; 

1 rule my world alone ; 

I am Time's vestal cold ; 
O earth, I 'm the North Sea's breath; 

I 'm power, supremely great, 
As stern as the tearless eyes of death 

And cold as the lips of fate. 

99 



FEBRUARY 

MINE are the hills, all bare and bleak; 
I cry to the woods and bid them speak, 
But earth is cold, and her voice is weak. 

Mine are the sleet, and rain and snow; 

The glad high winds that come and go, 

And the pale gold west where the clouds bend low. 

strong am I, and free and wild; 
My voice is loud, but my kiss is mild, 
My lips are those of the chrisom child. 

1 smile, and the gleams of a vision creep 
Down through her snowy covering deep 
To warm the dreams of earth's wintry sleep. 

And close to the hills the low winds sing, 
And the burnished roses of sunset fling 
O'er the bare, brown woodlands, the light of 
spring ! 

10O 



MARCH 

I AM the Voice in the Wilderness; 
Tremble with terror, earth, 
For you waste my wealth of tenderness 

By a gift of dust and dearth ! 
With Ishmael hand I would rend your Spring 

As I rage at my barren sky, 
I am prophet of that I may never bring, 
And the scorn of the year am I ! 

Yet oft when my wrestling wind-crews rest 

I steal to the jonquil beds, 
And still the ache in my loveless breast 

With the touch of their soft, sweet heads; 
And my mad love rocks them the whole night 
long 

Until they forget their fears, 
And deep in their dreams croons a cradle song 

Attuned to my yearning tears! 

IOI 



APRIL 

O WINDS in reedy hollows for my coming 
pipe a song; 
I 'm April, all the promise of the youthful 
year is mine, 

earth, smile out in violets, poor earth, you 've 

waited long 
Till I should stir your pulses as man's heart 
is stirred with wine. 
See, I sow the seed with laughter, 
Though the swift, light tears fall after, 
And my young, young heart 's o'erflowing with 
a joy that 's half divine! 

1 was born of morn and twilight, I'ma change- 

ful, restless thing; 
I have no passioned blisses, and I have no 
bitter ruth, 

102 



April 103 

There 's a note of wistful longing in the happy 
songs I sing 
And my heart is strong with daring to find 
life's hidden truth. 
I am smiles and I am tears, 
I 'm the dream of outworn years, 
I am April, I am youth, eternal youth! 



MAY 

I AM sweet with the dawning' s gleaming; 
My robes of her gold are spun ; 
I 'm the gypsy child of her dreaming; 
My brooks laugh out in the sun. 
O earth, I 'm the light o' the morning; 
The star of your night burns low; 
Have done with your wintry scorning, 

earth, I love you so! 

O sunshine, dance to my singing, 

1 've flung my jewels down; 
My celandines are clinging 

Where the last year's leaves are brown; 
O earth, I 'm the joy of your being, 

See how my meadows glow; 

See how your shades are fleeing; 

O earth, I love you so! 

104 



JUNE 

THE earth and sea are mine, I hold them in 
my thrall; 
All life and joy and beauty from my waking 

roses fall; 
I warm the smallest flower with my clear and 

perfect light; 
I reach to kiss the loneliest star, far out across 

the night. 
A miracle of greenness o'er the dew-clear fields 

lies spread, 
And glad earth has forgotten her last year's buds 

are dead; 
For there 's glory all about her, and a radiancy 

divine, 
The joys of all the summer, in fulfilment sweet, 

are mine! 

105 



106 June 

I 'm the warm, soft breath of living, I am love, 

divine and strong; 
From my weeds I fashion roses, from the fret of 

life a song, 
And the glad round world a tribute to my gleam- 
ing skies doth bring; 
I 'm the sun of all the ages, I 'm the desert's 

living spring! 
I hold love's priceless nectar, and my chalice, 

chaste and fair, 
Is bound with sharp-set wreaths and with a 

flower, here and there, 
So wondrous bright that were it not with thorns 

so thickly sown 
The heart of man for joy would break in calling 

it his own! 



JULY 

RED poppies lie within my listless hands, 
Bright drops, that summer's love-torn 
heart hath bled; 
A golden langour steeps the heavy lands, 

When noons of surfeit spread. 
Calm plenitude, too deep for tears or mirth, 

Dreams of a thousand suns, all still and deep, 
I rest my burning heart 'gainst that of earth 
In silence, and we sleep. 

And yet not long, Lo! when the vision 's o'er, 

My living lightnings start; 
There 's tumult when a dead calm lay before; 

I 'm passion's very heart! 
No bondage round my conquering madness lies; 

My soul is wild as fire; 
I would tear the holy stars from out the skies 

To win to my desire! 

107 



AUGUST 

1AM the soul of the summer's toil; 
Mine are the wheat and corn and oil; 
Mine all the glories of blue and gold 
And the breathless sweetness the long days hold. 
Sun-strong am I, to bear the yield 
Of my brown arms' toil in the harvest field ; 
Sun-sweet, that children's heads may rest 
On the tender warmth of my loving breast. 

Mine are life's lowly joys that start 
Close to the earth and the summer's heart, 
The seas of grain 'neath the low red moon 
The haze of heat in the full, calm noon, 
The whispered chant that is slowly borne 
From the waving ranks of the tasselled corn, 
And the deep sweet rest at set o' sun, 
When the glories of earth and sky are one! 

108 



SEPTEMBER 

I SPREAD a dream-wrought tent 
Blue as my gentian's eyes; 
With summer's gold besprent 

Its shadows fall and rise; 
By the low soft winds caressed, 

The burnished beeches croon, 
Earth dreams and takes her rest; 
I am her afternoon. 

My full, warm rollers gleam; 

The white gulls flash above, 
I am one long deep dream, 

Sweet as the calm of love. 
I am a charm, to creep 

From the lotus lilies' spell, 
And hush men's hearts asleep 

On beds of asphodel. 

109 



OCTOBER 

MY mystic fires blaze 
On the windy upland ways, 
The purple shadows lift their incense sweet; 
The amber lights burn clear 
Through the sunset of the year 

And the grapes lie red and golden at my feet. 

A glory wraps me round 

And my brows with light are bound; 

The jewel leaves flame crimson on my breast; 
In the silence sad and long 
I 'm the bright day's even song 

That chants the benediction of the blest! 



no 



NOVEMBER 

1 CHANGE all life to a vapor cold 
Earth's pulse is slow, and her eyes are old. 
There 's a sob in the sound of the shadowed mere; 
The dead grass swirls in the empty weir; 
And the east wind hurries the misty rain 
Like a trembling ghost o'er the sodden plain. 
Man and the earth rail loud at me; 
The coming darkness alone they see; 
The sun that flares in my misty skies 
Is the sword that shuts out paradise, 
And there 's grey below and grey above, 
Sad as the heart bereft of love. 

desolate day of the sere, wet leaf, 

1 am absence, parting, and love's wild grief! 



in 






DECEMBER 

I AM the Mother-heart, that broods and dreams, 
Rocking all life to sleep; 
I am the Mother-love, that faithful gleams 
O'er all life's sins that to my haven creep. 
Or good or ill, earth still is dear to me; 

I weave a covering through the cold, still night 
Until the pale, slow sunbeams wake to see 
That all her blemishes are pure and white. 

Lo, in my time there comes a day of days; 

Peace, winds be still; 
The burning day-stars all expectant gaze; 

The silent woods with joyful wonder thrill. 
So blest am I, for joy I scarce can speak; 

My heart with gratitude grows hushed and 
lowly 
Hail, Blessed One, who came so helpless-weak 

To make all motherhood divine and holy! 

112 



GOLDEN POPPIES 

WE tangle the grass with living gold, 
And pour out the light our warm hearts 
hold, 
As over our heads the swift winds run 
To bid us dance in the golden sun! 
Come and laugh with us; let care slip 
Like the dew the sun drains from our lip; 
Drink deep of life till the soul 's akin 
To the larger life that it seeks to win; 
Take of the sun's unmeasured cheer, 
To-morrow, who knows? To-day is here! 
Give us to-day, to laugh with love 
For our gold below and its gold above, 
For the joy that breaks from bud to flower 
That once to each heart comes its golden hour ! 
Give us to-day! when our leaves are furled 
We have lived in the light of the glorious world, 
We have hidden deep in our hearts away 
The harvest of sun we have held to-day! 

8 113 



GYPSY SONG 

OTHE buoyant mists are fleeing, Love, 
arise! 
Come and wander past the purple hills with 
me, 
Bring the love-light of the morning in your eyes, 
For a new trail spreads before us, broad and 
free! 
And care has faded from us with the night, 

As from earth's face the shadow disappears, 
In her blushes at the rising, rosy light 
That shall kiss away the dewdrops of her tears ! 

See the roses fling their wild arms from the grass, 

Where they whisper that to wander is to live, 

While the daisies bend in reverence as you pass, 

And lavish earth spreads all she has to give; 

114 



Gypsy Song 115 

Come and linger all along the winding track — 

That old gypsy track encircling all the 
world — 

Hand in hand unto the Happy Isles and 
back 

Till the flying flags of lingering light are 
furled. 

Through the rosy hue that drips from morning's 
wing, 
In the golden, languid heaviness of noon, 
Where the broadened shadows hide the panting 
spring, 
And in the amber light the still leaves swoon; 
Till the gold is pale and tender, and the trees 
Have grown dim and dusky 'gainst the saffron 
skies, 
Where the clouds are light like foam on summer 
seas, 
And the night-hawk pipes his shrill and mourn- 
ful cries; 



n6 Gypsy Song 

Till the shades are soft and slumberous in their 
fall, 
And the hills are vague and drowsy in the 
west, 
O the world and earth are nothing, love is all, 
For we who held them dearest know it 
best! 
On, until beneath the watchful, wakeful stars, 
When the shadows close the long trail from 
our sight, 
And the darkling clouds are striped with silver 
bars, 
We shall sleep beneath the dreamful robe of 
night! 

O fair earth, when all thy glories fade away; 
When the happy trails of sunshine all are 
past; 
When towards thy heart our wearied footsteps 
stray; 
Together still, for this long sleep and last 



Gypsy Song 117 

Do thou hold us as the lights of life shall fail, 
When the darkness comes, and we have wan- 
dered far, 

Till we wake to follow God's own blissful trail 
In the gleaming track of some far-shining star! 



THE DREAMER 

1WALK the crowded ways of life 
Unseeing, and at peace; 
I push aside the great world's strife, 

And bid its voices cease; 
And all its cries in silence die; 

Mirages round me gleam; 
The race's winners pass me by, 
A dreamer in a dream. 

I see beyond men's scoffing 

The portals of the west, 
And in the golden offing 

The Islands of the Blest; 
Where the shining beach has beckoned 

With purple sea blooms strewn, 
Where the ages are not reckoned 

In the endless afternoon. 

118 



The Dreamer 119 

I slip away from the hurrying world ; 

I fear no storm nor gale; 
O'er sapphire seas the mists are curled, 

While speeds my shining sail. 
Past buoyant clouds, like billows stilled, 

Bright shines my wind-kissed strand, 
Where my desires all fulfilled, 

Wait in my star-girt land. 

Where sunshot poppies, golden-red, 

Make fields of scarlet flame, 
As though some mighty heart had bled 

Its life blood for its fame; 
Where bloom hope's roses, incense crowned, 

That on Love's heart once lay, 
Or once Joy's glowing love-locks bound 

Some long dead yesterday. 

Where the glorified Ideal 

Rests in mine her hallowed hand, 
As you love and hold the real 

In your dim, earth-bound land; 



120 The Dreamer 

And my glad youth leaves me never, 
In my realm of things that seem, 

Where I live and love forever 
A dreamer in a dream. 



TO MARGUERITE 

OMORE than friend, O thou whose hands did 
cling 
More fondly to the first wild things of spring 
Than all the garnered roses of the year, 

With heart as ever raised, I bring thee here 
These lowly blooms of mine, for thou didst see 

Not what they were, but what they meant to be; 
And though thy dark eyes ne'er o'er them may 

bend 
From that wide road where all earth's journeys 

end, 
Still shall their voices bear to death's domain 
A tribute to the love between us twain ! 



121 



MEMORY 

I AM maker of the world of things that were, 
My rule 's as old as hope, as wide as fate; 
Old heart throbs in my crucibles I stir 

For draughts as white as love, as black as 
hate, 
From me can death alone bring men release, 

The weak and strong alike I hold in fee, 
Impartially I give my strife and peace, 
And bend to none, for I am Memory! 

My incense is the smoke of burnt out loves, 
My missal all the vows that marked their 
course, 
With vanished joys are winged my sacred 
doves 
Their sacrificial knife is called Remorse. 

122 



Memory 123 

My gospel is the deed's unchanging word, 
With wasted years my altar flames are fed; 

Men's passions are my cups, wherein are stirred 
The mystic wines, so thick and warm and red. 

pigmy, puny race who know me not 

I bind you with your self-made cords of fire; 
The deathless, sleepless soul of things forgot, 

I mock you with the face of dead desire. 
Laugh to the world and flaunt your feeble scorn 

I hold your aching heart-strings in my hand; 
And when alone you feel my poisoned thorn, 

You kneel and cringe and pray, — and under- 
stand ! 

In grinding mills of life release I bring 
From dust shades that have filled your heart 
and eyes; 

1 change them to those tear warm mists that cling 

Round roses, wet with dews of Paradise. 
I lead you through the tender twilight pale, — 



124 Memory 

sweetness of the dreams that might have 

been — 
To show you love's own shining Eden vale, 
Then wave my hand to let the serpent in! 

I hound you with the sight of blood-stained gold ; 

1 sear you with the woe yourselves have 

wrought; 
Till you dare not meet the sneer my dull eyes 
hold, 
Nor take the mead your own black deeds have 
bought. 
I rack you with the dismal fear of fears, 

I tear you till your souls are sick with strife, 
Then you look into the eyes that ne'er knew 
tears, 
And fling me back the lie you called your life ! 

I am maker of the world of things that were; 

My rule 's as old as love, as deep as fate, 
Creation's lips have kissed my cup of myrrh, 

I hold the past within my hands, — and wait! 



Memory 125 

I linger with my silent, tireless curse, 
To meet you at your far-off, long-sought goals, 

And give you all of life, or death, and worse, 
For I am but the shade of your own souls! 



THE ROSE'S SONG 

I WALKED the garden paths; 
I heard a little rose 
Singing her wistful song 
At evening's close: 

"In the solemn twilight pale, 

My leaves unfold ; 
All day the gold sun called 

My heart of gold. 

"Now he has gone it wakes, 

Wakes for his kiss, 
Pink leaves above it curled 

Born but for this ! 

"O night of the pitiless shades, 

I fear thy breath, 
E'er I know thy sweetness, Life, 

Must I taste of death?" 

126 



THE HOME PORT 

WE have gone down to the sea 
With her brine on our fearless lips, 
From her grasp we have laughed us free 
When she raged for her tithe of ships; 
Unmoved at the feet of Death 

We have fought his seething foam; 
But now we choke with the quick-drawn breath; 
We are rounding in towards home! 

There 's a glint of gold in the southern sky, 

And the luring spice winds croon 
From lands in a zone o' sun that lie 

In a golden afternoon; 
But far and away where the grey clouds frown 

There's harbor for sails that roam; 
And sweeter than song the gulls scream down 

The brine-burned winds of home. 

127 



128 The Home Port 

Home! and the crimson sunset burns, 

And the white-churned foam leaps forth 
As the heart to its one true point returns, 

Like the needle trembling north! 
Sing home, old ship to the song o' the gales 

That the grizzled rollers comb, 
Too slow, O winds you fill the sails 

The sails that spread towards home ! 

Speed from the gold to the beetling grey; 

Swing in towards the sea-scarred pine, 
Where the wild east wind brings up the day, 

Storm-riven through the brine! 
Beat in from the cold of trackless nights 

With the dear lost stars above; 
Sight through the mist pale flickering lights, 

Home's beacon lights o' love! 



MAR 1 3 J909 



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